"Such a beautiful voice," sighed the little fellow to himself. "It would be a shame to have it 부천 유흥 사이트 swallowed up by one of the forest creatures. And this must be a child." He held his lantern close to Bob's red head. He watched them for a while in silence, then pulling his silvery beard thoughtfully, set the little red lantern beside them and pattered off into the darkness.

Notta had been right. It was a fairy forest. Every forest in the wonderful land of Oz is a fairy forest, inhabited by strange creatures and peoples. But the clown's song had so pleased the old fairyman that he determined to protect the two strangers from all harm, and though many bears and other beasts came snuffling past, they dared not approach, for the red lantern told them plainly it was "Claws off." So grumbling and growling, they went searching further for their dinners.

The little lantern disappeared with the first ray of sunshine and, quite unconscious of the dangers they had slept through, Notta and Bob awoke almost at the same minute.

"Well," yawned Notta, winking the only eye he had open, "we're still here, I see." He rolled over and over and turned a dozen handsprings to get the kinks out of his back. "I've often wondered what made flowers so stiff and now I know. It's sleeping on the ground. I'm glad I'm not a flower, aren't you, Bob?"

Bob nodded and hopped up quite briskly. There was a fine breeze blowing, and the day was so sunny and bright that he felt ready for anything, and just to look at Notta made him feel happy.

"Do you think we'll find the Emerald City to-day?" he asked, skipping along beside the clown, who was making for a little brook just ahead.

"Well, according to Mustafa, it ought to take three days," answered Notta. "But Mustafa was never in a circus, and anyone who has been in a circus can travel three times as fast as other folks, so I shouldn't be surprised at all if we were to be eating our supper in this Emerald City to-night. If I had only wished old Billy along he could have carried us in style."

"The elephant?" exclaimed Bob, with round eyes. The clown nodded and, kneeling down on the edge of the brook, began to splash water on his face and hands. Bob did the same, and had just taken off his shoes in order to paddle properly, when a cry from Notta made him pause.

"Now I've done it," wailed the clown dolefully, jumping up and down.

"What?" asked Bob curiously.

"Washed my face." Notta pointed to his face, which was quite red and shiny from the cold water. "And I haven't any powder! Have you any powder, Bob? Oh, my! Cold pie! It's hard enough to be funny with a white face, but without one I simply could not joke at all. Whatever's to become of us? I'm no clown this way."

Bob was terribly distressed, for if Notta couldn't be funny nothing would seem the same. He felt hastily in his pockets—not that he expected to find anything, but because he didn't know what else to do—and in the last one his hand closed on a bag of candy the old gentleman had bought for him at the circus. It was squashed and sticky from being slept on, but mechanically Bob handed it over.

"Why, it's marshmallows!" cried Notta in delight. "Bob, you have saved the honor of my profession. We must preserve these carefully." He patted his face with a small sugary marshmallow and surveyed his reflection with pleased satisfaction. "I feel funny already," he announced cheerfully. Bob was much relieved and Notta did look more natural with his face whitened.

"Now for breakfast," said the clown, licking the sugar off his lips. It was great fun, Bob thought, washing in a brook and having breakfast under the trees. After finishing off some more of Mustafa's sandwiches, they started quite briskly through the forest.

"I think the rules are going to work better to-day," chuckled the clown, "I will use disguise number three. Number three's a bear, Bob Up. Now, here's our program, first disguise, then politeness, then joke and run. We shall get along famously." Notta sprang into the air and clicked his heels together for very light-heartedness.

Bob was thinking to himself that Notta's last disguise had not helped them much, but he was too polite to mention such a thing, and as there seemed to be no danger in sight he trotted along contentedly, stopping now and then to pick the bright blue flowers that grew everywhere under the trees. The forest was not so large as it had seemed in the night, and in an hour they had come to the end of it and started down a narrow lane.

"Well, we're still going north." Notta looked complacently at a large sign post that stood at the beginning of the lane.

"North Road to D," said the sign briefly.

"Wonder what D stands for?"

"Because it can't sit down." The sign snapped out the sentence so suddenly that Notta tripped and fell over a stone, and Bob simply gasped with astonishment.
"They didn't paint any line for it to sit on," explained the sign post patiently.

"Where does this lane go to?" gulped the clown, edging over and taking Bob's hand.

"It doesn't go any place. It stays where it is."

"See here," puffed the clown in exasperation, "I never heard of a talking sign post, but so long as you can talk, you might give us a few directions."

"I only give one direction and that's north. You can take it, or leave it."

Notta tried the post with a few more questions, but it just sniffed sulkily, and seeing no more was to be got out of it, the two hurried on.

"Maybe D stands for Dorothy," said Bob, after a little silence.

"Maybe," mused the clown, looking uneasily over his shoulder, "but this is a strange country, and we'll have to take it as we find it. Hello, what's this?"

A sudden turn brought them up short, for the lane was closed off by a gray wall, so high one could not possibly climb over and so wide that it would take days to walk 'round. And in the wall were seven heavy oak doors.

"This is the Kingdom of Doorways," announced a large sign, posted half way up the walls. "Be sure to use the right door."
"But which is the right door?" gasped the clown, half expecting the sign to answer him.

"There are seven," exclaimed Bob, who had been counting them up on his fingers.

"And only one of them right," choked the clown anxiously. The two stood perfectly still, gazing in fascination at the seven doors.

"Which is the right door?" repeated Notta, scratching his ear doubtfully.
As Bob and Notta came closer, they noticed that each door had a brass plate nailed on the center panel, engraved with various names and instructions. "Keep out!" directed one shortly.

"Well, that surely cannot be the right one," exclaimed the clown, moving hastily to the next.

"Don't waken the baby," advised the second door. So Notta and Bob tiptoed carefully past.

"This way to the Dorms. No admittance till February," said the third door.

"And it's only May now. We cannot possibly wait that long." Notta took off his hat and made the door a polite bow. "Besides," he explained to Bob, who was slowly spelling out the words on the fourth door, "Dorms stands for dormitories and dormitories stand for sleep. Who wants to sleep?"

"A likely story," sniffed the door, looking contemptuously from one to the other. "But what could one expect of people with curly ears."

"We have not curly ears," cried Bob, stamping his foot indignantly.

"Don't argue," said the door stiffly. "How's your temper—long or short?" It rolled its wooden knot eyes inquiringly at Notta.

"What's that got to do with our getting in?" asked the clown impatiently.

"Short!" muttered the door triumphantly to itself. "No, you'd better stay out, I think. Her highness is very slammish to-day, and the last time I let strangers in she nearly twisted my knob off. That's the trouble around here—when anything goes wrong, everybody slams the door. Sometimes I almost wish I were a sofa cushion."

"I wish you were, myself," frowned the clown, "for then I'd toss you out of the way instead of wasting my breath here. Are you going to let us in or not?"

"Not!" snapped the door, rattling its knob vindictively. "And I don't care a slam what you wish."

"Bob," said Notta, turning his back on the door, "did you ever hear anything like that? Let's try Number Two. I'd rather risk wakening a baby than trying to argue with a door that answers itself."

"I'm not afraid of babies," said Bob following manfully. The knob of Number Two turned easily and the door swung open with such a rush that both Notta and Bob fell through. At the first glimpse of that baby, Notta clapped his hand over Bob's mouth and, rising with quaking knees, pulled him toward the door. For you see it was a baby dragon—a snoring, roaring baby dragon as long and heavy as a freight train. It gave a shrill whistle and snort as the door slammed shut and Notta and Bob sat down in a weak heap.

"Baby," choked the clown, rubbing his eyes, which were full of dragon smoke. "Well, if that's the baby, preserve me from the rest of the family!"

"Will it come after us?" shuddered Bob, in a frightened whisper.

"How did you like our little doorter?" The seventh door looked sideways at the two and chuckled wickedly. "Still want to get in?"

"Certainly," said Notta, turning a dozen cartwheels to relieve his nervousness, "but not that way." He winked reassuringly at Bob. "Before I do anything else I must put on my disguise. No wonder things are going so badly."

"Don't you think you look silly enough?" wheezed the door rudely, as the clown drew out disguise number three. Notta paid no attention to this remark but, turning his back, struggled hastily into number three. Even Bob felt reassured, for this time Notta was disguised as a bear—a huge and terrible-looking bear. Grasping Bob's hand he rushed at the door marked "Push," with such a ferocious growl that Number seven shook like a leaf.

"Oh, my hinges," chattered the door, "that went through me like a sword." But immediately afterward it broke into derisive laughter. For no sooner had Notta and Bob pushed Number Six, than Number Six pushed back, and so hard that the two went flying into a clump of blueberry bushes.

"That's the door way to treat 'em, brother," roared Seven, and Notta picked himself up and straightened his bear skin.

"Now some people," muttered the clown, helping Bobbie out of the brushes and shaking his paw at the door, "some people would be discouraged. But no more side shows, Bob. Let's try the Queen's door, if we're to be thrown out it might as well be done royally."

There was a silver bell on the Queen's door and Notta rang it quickly, before either of them had time to change their minds. For a moment nothing at all happened. Then the door knob disappeared. But horrors! Next instant it shot out, seized the two in a terrible clutch, and dragged them through the keyhole. Yes, it really did!

Not only had they been pulled through the keyhole, but they felt as if they had been pulled through the keyhole. Even Notta had nothing to say. He just lay on his back and panted. Whether the keyhole had stretched as they went through or whether they had shrunk, I cannot say. I only know they went through somehow and were on the other side of the Queen's door.

"Cards, please!" A doorman in a handsome blue satin uniform was leaning over them. "Are you deaf?" he asked angrily. "Are you dumb?" He thumped Notta on the head with his silver card plate.

"Neither," groaned the clown. "What do you want?"

"Your titles," snapped the doorman, looking nervously over his shoulder. As he did so, a vase, three books and a pair of fire tongs struck the wall just above his head.

"Oh, the Queen is in a fury, whatever shall I do next," he mumbled to himself, dropping the silver plate and then picking it up again.

"Let's run," said Bob, pressing close to Notta. But the clown had already recovered his spirits and was fumbling in his pockets under his bear skin.

"There you are." He calmly dropped two large buttons on the doorman's plate. "Just lead us to her Majesty at once."

"Someone's been at the jam again," quavered the doorman without looking at the buttons. "Oh, the Queen's in a fury—a fury—a fury!" At each fury he gave a little hop.

"You said that before," observed Notta, looking around curiously.

"A fury! A fury! A fury!" persisted the doorman, continuing to hop, and as each hop carried him farther away he was soon out of sight.